I Hate You
by crowscrow
Summary: Jonathan sets off for a short trip, leaving Edward and Jervis alone.


Story Title: I Hate You  
Universe: Comic-verse  
Word Count: 3,887  
Genre: Drama/Romance, One-shot, Complete  
Characters: Jonathan Crane, Jervis Tetch, Edward Nigma  
Pairings: Edward Nigma/Jervis Tetch, Jonathan Crane/Jervis Tetch, (indirect) Edward Nigma/Jonathan Crane  
Chapter rating: M  
Summary: Jonathan goes for a short trip, leaving Edward and Jervis alone. Tim Sale style Scarecrow and more of a Gotham Central/Secret Six style Hatter. Suave, jock style Riddler.  
Warnings: Language, adult themes, sexual content  
Disclaimer: Characters, quotes, themes, etc © DC and © other people, places, etc. No financial gain is made.

Author's note: A weird and fun pairing. Sprouting from the previous story 'The Art of the In-Between', where Edward ends up living with Jonathan and Jervis in their home.

Deviantart: xcrowscrowx.

R&R

I Hate You

"Well… it's time."

Jonathan stood outside their house, a suitcase in one hand, the car keys in the other, while Jervis remained in the doorway, straining to keep from clutching at Jonathan's pant leg like a child unwilling to let their parent leave.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Jervis asked. His blonde hair shone from the porch lantern, but the darkness of the evening shadowed his face. "I'm not sure I'm okay with this."

Jonathan paused for a moment and looked at the wreck that was his husband. "I'm… pretty sure I'll be ok."

"Maybe I should go with you."

"Maybe I shouldn't go at all."

Edward couldn't stand it any longer. "Maybe you should both grow a pair and let this happen the way we _planned_."

"Edward is right, Jervis." Jonathan took a deep breath. "It'll be fine. I'll only be gone a few days."

"But what if something happens to you?" Jervis wore a look similar to that of a frightened animal. "What if you don't come back?"

"Then you're stuck with me, little man," Edward replied. He snaked his arm around Jervis's shoulder.

"Don't worry, baby," Jonathan said. "I'll be back before you know it."

"He'll be fine," Edward replied.

Jonathan nodded and Jervis sighed. Both looked at a loss, but Edward could tell Jonathan needed to go, if only for a few days to be on his own. Jonathan's independence had steadily increased since Edward's relocation to their home, so much that he was able to convince Jervis to let him go on small trips by himself. Edward fully supported the idea. Jervis, on the other hand, was less than thrilled.

Jonathan tried to smile. "Alright, I have a flight to catch."

"Yes. Very good," Jervis replied, also trying to smile. He could only accomplish a pained grin. "I will… _see you when you return_!" He spun on his heel into the house, marched through the foyer, up the stairwell, and out of sight.

Jonathan looked distressed, but Edward took the man's hand in his own. "Don't worry, Jon," he said. "I swear I'll take good care of him."

"Are you sure you can handle this? I haven't left his side in over four years… there's no telling how he's going to be."

"Jon. Please. There is nothing I can't handle."

Jonathan raised a brow. "You're terribly naive."

"It'll be fine. Trust me. He's in good hands."

Jonathan stared for a moment before pulling Edward into an embrace. "Thank you, Eddie," he said. "I'm glad you stayed with us."

Edward grunted and dared to put his hands around Jonathan's waist. "Of course. You're here. That's all that matters to me."

Their faces came close, but Edward shied out of habit. The contract shared between the three of them strictly prohibited him from such things when Jervis was not present to approve. He stepped away, but Jonathan took the base of his head and pulled him into a kiss.

One would think a kiss was just a kiss, no matter what the circumstances, but in that moment without Jervis's watchful eyes, it granted a freedom like nothing Edward had ever felt before. The strain of keeping his hands at bay vanished and he no longer had to worry about using too much tongue. The kiss was brief, yet real, more real than he and Jonathan had ever shared before, and it would last Edward forever. But too soon, Jonathan broke the connection.

"I have to go, Eddie."

"Of course," he said and swayed.

"Be good."

"Would I be any other way?"

Jonathan gave him a smirk before ambling to the car. He got in, shut the door, and drove off, waving from the side window. Edward waved back and sighed. When the vehicle was out of view, Edward clapped his hands and returned inside.

Jervis had gone upstairs, so he followed quietly on his toes. The blonde man lay under a pile of sheets, his face hidden up to his brows, his nose poking out beneath the covers. Edward slipped off his shirt and placed a knee on the mattress, but the movement made Jervis flinch and curl up tighter. A surprise, but Edward didn't over think the rejection. In fact, he didn't much care; his affections for Jervis went only as deep as his cock—which, granted, in terms of sex was deep, but not _that_ deep. So, instead of prying Jervis from his pathetic mood to engage in some rampant release of steam, he leaned in and placed a hand on the man's covered shoulder, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"You know where to find me if you need me," he said.

There was barely a response, so Edward made for his own bed. The sheets felt nice and soft. When his naked chest hit the mattress he sighed and wrapped himself in a cocoon, sticking one of the pillows between his legs. He fell asleep instantly.

* * *

During the night he stirred, as he so often did, in need of a glass of water. Rubbing his face, he was about to get up when he noticed Jervis snuggled next to him. He nudged away but Jervis surprised him with a quick hand to his wrist.

"Where're you going?" Jervis asked. His voice was high and breathy.

"Relax, I need a glass of water," Edward replied. "You want one?"

"Please…" Jervis loosened his grip and lowered back into the sheets.

After going to the bathroom, Edward returned and handed one of the glasses to the other man, imagining it filled with his own piss instead of water. He chuckled silently. Alas, Jervis gulped the water down greedily, and in the faint darkness Edward could see some drizzle from the corner of his lips. As Edward took the empty glass, their mouths met. In a few minutes Edward pulled away and sank into the mattress again.

* * *

Morning came. Edward yawned as he stretched and turned to see if Jervis was awake. Sure enough, the Hat was gone. Edward smacked his lips in anticipation of breakfast and decided to head downstairs. He threw on a pair of loose fitting boxers and a flimsy white tank. In the mirror he could see some of his tattoos, one of which—his favorite—was written in Gaelic across his chest. _Ní bhíonn saoi gan locht_, translated _there is no wise man without fault_—a nostalgic proverb his bastard of a father used to say before he died when Edward was twenty.

The others he didn't really care for.

Regardless, he didn't mind either Jon or Jervis seeing them, but for the most part had kept them hidden by long sleeved shirts and jeans, or when back in Gotham, by his Riddler suit.

In the kitchen, Jervis was making Belgium waffles in a waffle skillet while simmering fresh strawberries for a homemade sauce. Edward leaned against the doorframe and watched as the Hat dipped a prim finger in the shallow sauce pan then licked it, uttering a faint approval to himself. Edward smiled at the sight. Quiet as ever, he tiptoed in and slapped Jervis's unguarded rear with a resounding _thwack_.

Jervis jumped and let out a frightened yelp then glared over his shoulder. "Ah," he said, "I see your lazy ass is finally out of bed."

"Mmyep," Edward replied while pouring a cup of coffee.

Jervis cleared his throat. "You know… I-I'm sorry for last night. I was quite tired."

"Whatever," Edward replied.

"You accept my apology, then?"

"Make me a plate of those waffles, Hat, and we'll see."

Jervis dutifully delivered, indignant at the nickname, while Edward dug in. Mid-chew, Edward remembered the sleeping figure next to him during the night, and gulped down his mouthful to speak. "I recall someone crawling into my bed last night," he said. "It seems a little blonde fairy found its way under my covers."

Jervis snorted, his face ever dignified, and sipped from his mug. "I haven't slept alone in a long time, Edward."

"It was kinda' cute. Like a baby lamb; all vulnerable and shit."

"You're infuriating, you know. Worse than I am."

Edward laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't say I'm _that_ bad."

Jervis's jaw tightened, but the dignified look never waned. "You have plans for the day, might I ask?"

"Hat, when do I ever have plans? My life is now summed up to eating, sleeping, and shitting in this house."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to cut to the chase, then."

A set of keys came clinking onto the counter top. Edward glanced at them, picked them up, chewed his mouthful, and swallowed. "What's this?" he asked, unenthused.

"What does it look like?"

"You bought me a car?" Edward let the keys drop on the counter again. "What is it, some cheap wood-paneled piece of shit?"

Jervis chuckled. "No, no. That's the car Jonathan wants… God knows why… but no, dear Edward, that's not what it is. For you, I picked something that goes with your, shall we call it… attitude."

"Okay." Edward shrugged.

"Well, don't get all excited, for heaven's sake."

Edward sat calmly on his stool. He took another forkful of syrup-glazed waffle and stuck it in his mouth.

"Aren't you interested at all?"

Edward half-sighed, half-groaned. "Sure. Whatever you want, Hat."

"You don't seem in the least bit appreciative."

"Probably because I'm not. I don't really give a damn."

Jervis flinched at the remark, but held his cool. Edward was determined to break that cool if he could. Made for some crazy, angry sex, it did.

"You're trying to upset me," Jervis said knowingly. "You know, two can play at that game."

"Bring it on, babe."

"Just fucking go and see what it is, Edward. Stop being a giant dick, you have a big enough one as it is."

Edward laughed. "Look, fuck-face, I appreciate the gesture, but it's kind of emasculating."

"Oh, it's _emasculating_, is it? And I wouldn't know _anything_ about that, now would I?"

"It ain't my fault you…" Edward faltered, "… do what you do."

"Of course, how could I forget? I _force_ myself upon you, all 4 feet and 5 inches of me."

Edward inwardly cringed. _Fuck you_, he thought, _I don't know what Jon sees in you_. He put on a big smile as he responded. "As insignificant as you are, Jervis, you're still good for _some_ things."

"Don't kid yourself, Nigma. You enjoy it. We share a special little bond, you and I. That special, loving bond of fucking each other blind."

"Special my ass." Edward finished his plate and slammed it into the sink. "You're nothing special."

"_Be careful_ with those dishes, you ignorant _swine_. Those were expensive."

Edward could feel his blood rising. He turned to walk away before his temper got the best of him, but Jervis spoke. "You still have a gift. Go to the garage and see it."

"Don't order me around."

"Go and see it, damn you, before I shove the keys down your throat."

Edward ran his hands through his hair and balled his fists, pulling until his anger dissipated. He sucked in a breath and grabbed the keys off the counter before walking through the foyer to the garage. When he banged open the door he came to a sudden halt. In the center of the room was a bright green BMW crotch rocket kicked up on its stand. He stared, his mouth hung open. Jervis sidled up beside him with a fat grin. "Not what you expected, huh?"

"No," he answered. He put his hand to his chin and played with the scruff of his reddish beard. "No, not at all what I expected. But you seldom meet expectations, Hat."

Jervis snorted at the comment and sauntered towards the motorcycle, leaning his elbows on its seat. "Nice try, Nigma. You're surprised. And… flattered maybe?"

Edward looked down at the bike. Jervis peered up and gave him a smile, then pointed to the workbench hugging the back wall. Edward's eyes followed to see two sleek, full face helmets next to a folded bundle of black clothes. He would never admit it, but his interest was piqued.

"The costume is what really matters. Am I right, Nigma?"

Edward didn't bother to respond; he was too busy inspecting the tapered jackets next to the helmets. He picked one up to see how it looked against his chest, but realized it was far too small.

"That one's mine," Jervis said.

"Obviously." Edward dropped the jacket on the floor, uncaring.

"Yours is nice too, you know."

Edward felt like laughing. Jervis was the type of man you could stab one minute and kiss the next, so Edward never knew how to react except to laugh. He grabbed one of the sets of matching pants and held them to his waist. "I bet you messed up on the size, Hat."

Jervis's arms were crossed as he studied Edward from afar. Those baby blues always had a tinge of hurt in them, from past or present Edward didn't know, but in that moment they were confident and calculating. Edward turned so the other man couldn't see him scowl.

"What do we say after we receive a gift?" Jervis was pushing it. "I mean, this isn't like a bag of candy or a video game. That fine hunk of metal was _expensive_."

Edward's face contorted. _Everything is expensive to you, you little demon._ He glared over his shoulder. "You ruin my life," he said scathingly.

"Oh, stop that."

"_Thanks_. For _everything_. For the food, the bike, the house, the ring—and for making my life as fucking miserable as anyone could ever make it. Thank you, _Jervis_; I couldn't have been more unhappy without you."

Jervis chuckled and shook his head. "Don't be so dramatic. I know you like it. Well… as much as Edward Nigma could possibly like anything."

"I assume this gift comes with a price?"

"But of course."

"What do you want?"

"The beard."

"The beard?" Edward was caught off guard. He rubbed at the large scruff on his chin, something he had come to enjoy doing.

"Yes." Jervis cocked his head. "It's too ugly to bear any longer—it goes."

Edward's frown worsened. "I'm not shaving it. It took me too long to get it like this."

"It looks like a wild animal was glued to your face. It has to go. Otherwise, I'll have to take the bike back. The bike or the beard, Edward. Your choice."

For once Edward didn't know what to say. He liked his beard; it was finally starting to take shape. But the bike was nice. _Really_ nice. Damnit, this was manipulation at its finest, and Jervis took pleasure in weaving the strings. But it was a _really_ _nice_ bike. Edward bit his lip, unaware of Jervis's cool eyes watching him as he weighed his options. "I hate you," he finally said.

Jervis snickered. "Fine, I suppose I'll have to return it then."

For the second time Edward didn't know what to say. It was insulting, having to do something—_anything_—to appease the Hat.

"Come on, Edward," Jervis prodded. "You're far too handsome to hide behind that bush."

Edward's jaw set, but he decided he didn't care after all. "Fine. It's not for you, though. Jon said he preferred the shaven look anyway." He stomped out of the garage.

Upstairs in the bathroom, he took a trimmer to his face and shaved off the remaining stubble with a razor. When he was finished he looked up in the mirror, but could hardly recognize himself. He didn't feel attractive, nor did he feel confident or smart; on the contrary, he felt awkward, stupid, and ugly. Whispers. He mentally pushed them aside and threw the razor back in the drawer. Upon reaching the garage, Jervis eyed him up in a mixture of triumph and delight, to which Edward sneered.

"You clean up nice, Nigma," Jervis said. "I haven't seen you're chin since you first arrived. I almost forgot how handsome you are."

Despite himself, Edward blushed, and now that there was nothing to hide behind he could only linger in horror as his own face betrayed him.

"Take me for ice cream," Jervis commanded softly.

They both threw off their clothes, and between donning their new attire, Jervis coaxed him into slipping tongues. Funny how their separate angers brought them closer, but it wasn't something to get all gooey about.

Edward zipped his jacket and fitted one of the helmets over his head. Jervis did the same after readjusting his pants. When the garage door was opened and they were both settled on the bike, Edward turned and pressed a button on the side of his helmet, accessing a built in, two-way radio. "You know I haven't driven one of these things in a long time. Don't let go. And don't fall off. Because if you do? I ain't going back."

* * *

Edward knew the events of their little back-road adventure would lead to this point. A ceramic vase hit the floor, shattering with a loud crash. A scuffle, a slap, Jervis rubbing at the cut on his lower lip, smearing red on his chin. Another struggle. Edward froze, save for his head, which jerked with the force of Jervis's palm to his cheek. Jervis sprinted up the stairwell, giddy and shaking and laughing uncontrollably, but Edward wasn't laughing. His cheek stung, his eyes were wide, and his pupils contracted to the size of pinpricks.

Bending over to catch his breath, Jervis laughed aloud once more, but lost his smile as he witnessed Edward bounding after him three steps at a time. The instant before impact was incredibly satisfying, as Edward noticed Jervis's expression of mirth switch to shock before being trampled to the ground.

"_Shit_!" The blonde man yelled.

Edward's grin widened. He would celebrate his victory by making the Hat scream. Jervis scrambled beneath him, but there was no escaping his vice-like grip. He flipped the struggling body over, exposing the man's backside, when suddenly his head cracked to the side for a second time. Jervis ran for the bedroom, made it to the door, pulled on the knob, but—like a scene from a movie—Edward came crashing against the frame just as Jervis skittered through. The doors slammed into the walls and Edward stood heaving, hunched, with his teeth grinding in his skull. The sounds of mad laughter revealed where Jervis hid, but upon being noticed the Hat shot up and dragged a table into Edward's path, then dove for the corner, giggling like a fool.

The table had no chance. It was thrown with superhuman strength, like a toy in a toddler's hand, into the wall. Jervis's laughter hitched to a startled gasp.

"_Edward_, that was—"

A flash of movement, long strides—one, two, three—and Edward was grabbing Jervis by the shirt, throwing him across the room to land on the master bed. Jervis did not flee as expected, but instead started to laugh—a high-pitched, excited, frightened, thrilled, aroused, and utterly insane laugh.

Edward let it go, knowing that voice would soon be silenced into labored breaths and muffled scream. He opened the chest at the foot of the bed; the key was already in place, waiting. With a roll of black tape in hand, Edward raged towards the doors and kicked them shut.

* * *

Daylight gave him a headache, so he rolled over, away from its pain-inducing presence. The mattress was soft, the pillow enticing, and he wanted to stay asleep forever. Jervis was snoring peacefully, his breath rhythmic and real, without strive for manipulation or control. A submissive, passive, quiet Jervis was a Jervis Edward could get to like. Maybe even love. But the man wouldn't be that way for long, so Edward delayed rising just to enjoy it.

Before long he noticed the time and shot forward.

_Holy shit_, he thought, _four pm. That can't be possible_.

And still, he'd woken before Jervis. He sank into the sheets, his mind catching up to speed, and glanced at the figure beside him. He shot forward again.

"Holy fuck," he said.

Jervis was covered in bruises, the most notable being around his neck and face. They weren't too bad, but damn if Jonathan wasn't going to be pissed. Edward groaned and rose to his feet, thinking maybe, just maybe, if he made the Hat breakfast in bed, then Jonathan might go easy on him, seeing as how Jervis would most likely boast about the deed.

He descended the stairwell, his steps hushed by careful placement, and started to cook something he hoped would come close to Jervis's remarkable culinary craftsmanship. Minutes later, his masterpiece was finished, but it was hardly a meal in comparison to what Jervis was capable of in the kitchen. It was no matter, Jervis would undoubtedly eat it.

With the tray in hand, the eggs cooling in the air, he ascended to the master bedroom where Jervis was still asleep. He placed the tray on Jervis's nightstand and slowly sat on the edge of the mattress. Jervis did not stir.

"Wakey, wakey, ass-hat," he said gently while brushing his hand through Jervis's yellow hair.

Jervis grunted, smacked his lips, and turned away to continue sleeping, but Edward was persistent.

"If you don't get up now, Jervis, I swear to God, I'll dump water on your head."

"_Nnnnng_… shut _up_."

"I'll do it."

Jervis stretched and yawned, then pushed himself forward into a sitting position. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a rats nest, and his bottom lip was partially caked in dried blood. Edward cringed just looking at him.

"What's this?" Jervis pointed to the food.

"I decided since you wanted to be a disgusting, lazy jerk this morning that I would take the liberty of making us breakfast."

Jervis didn't even respond to the mock hostility, but turned to look at the clock. He made a loud groan.

"It's not like you have to be anywhere, shit-for-brains," Edward said.

Jervis gave him a glare and took the tray of food onto his lap. "Unlike you, Nigma, I have a job." He started on the eggs. Edward smiled.

They spent the rest of the day lounging, shooting insults back and forth and bickering for the mere sake of it. Edward had to chuckle as he willingly accepted a forkful of food by Jervis's hand only to chew it and stick out his tongue in display of the wet mush in his mouth. Jervis sneered in disgust and pushed him away, but began to laugh again when they started doing brutal impressions of each other: Edward claimed Jervis was so full of himself that he liked to eat his own shit, while Jervis retorted with a dumb sounding interpretation of the Riddler that couldn't count to ten and called himself an idiot every other sentence.

The ice broke, as it always did, though it would freeze again in a matter of minutes, especially when Jonathan walked through the door and the couple forgot all about Edward in their delighted reunion, but before it could, their faces came close and their noses rubbed together.

"I hate you," Jervis whispered to him, wrapped in his arms.

"And I hate you," he whispered back.


End file.
